


too young to feel so numb

by stormfree



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Character Study, Hurt, alternate title: i ignore everything that happened in Alive, amélie is sad, basically hurt/comfort except there’s no comfort, i’m so Fascinated by the concept of Widowmaker feeling things wow, only rated teen and up because this is largely about death, so uh it’s just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19162825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormfree/pseuds/stormfree
Summary: They gave her pills to take when she started to feel again.





	too young to feel so numb

**Author's Note:**

> basically some longer headcanons about widowmaker.  
> i watched alive i swear but uh when i was writing this i just let my imagination run wild? kinda?  
> also the title doesn’t really relate to the story, it’s just a lyric that reminds me of amélie.

They gave her pills to take when she started to feel again. 

When she had hesitated in that millisecond it took to take a man’s life. 

When she had foolishly let that single tear slip down her cheek. 

When she had failed in her job to widowmake.

* * *

It was funny, how Amélie still remembered the choreography to _La Sylphide_. It wasn’t even her favourite ballet.

But it had ended tragically for James and Sylphide, and she supposed it was fitting, given her past.

* * *

Most people just assumed she didn’t remember anything. That she was just a brainwashed amnesiac, ready to jump if Talon willed her to.

She had heard the whispers, and she was no fool. 

But she remembered everything. 

Everything, from the butterflies in her stomach right before a crucial performance, the pumping in her veins as she executed 32 consecutive _fouettés_ , the taste of wine on Gérard’s lips on their wedding night…

_Everything._

She couldn’t decide if she couldn’t find it in herself to care, or if she just didn’t want to remember.

* * *

Sometimes, having no emotion made life so much easier.

Not feeling meant she couldn’t care. 

She couldn’t care about how the folded-up wedding picture she had found in her old locket made her feel some type of way.

She couldn’t care about how no matter how hard she tried, she ended up seeing Sombra and Gabriel as acquaintances, if not… friends.

She couldn’t care about how the guilt weighed her down like lead in her stomach, the blood on her hands making her see things she knew weren’t really there.

* * *

After she kills, that one second of feeling envelopes her in warmth that she longs to feel. 

That warmth feels like home. Feels like arms wrapped around her, whispering in soft French, reminding her that she is still human. 

Her heart speeds up, pumping loud and fast. She gasps sharply, like a newborn taking her first breath. A sob catches in her throat.

She usually cries during that one second of ecstasy.

They are not just tears of joy, of the sensations that she used to feel.

She cries for the lives she has dimmed. Cries for the lives she had snuffed out. Cries for herself. 

She is human, for that one, glorious moment.

And then the cold comes back. 

Her heart slows.

She doesn’t breathe. 

It was so cold. Always so, so cold.

She wipes her eyes and leaves.

Talon had made her a junkie. Made her dependent on that kill. 

She didn’t want to leave. 

She couldn’t.

* * *

The pest had caught her with damp eyes once. 

Unsurprisingly, a smirk had stretched leisurely on her face and she cooed mockingly at Amélie, asking her if she needed a tissue. 

Amélie had killed a mother with a child no older than seven that day. 

He had held her dead body in his small, fat arms and wailed.

This was not blood she could wash away. These were not tears she could wipe away easily. This was not something she could forgive herself for.

And so she turned her head to face Sombra, staring at her blankly.

Normally, she would’ve spat back at the lowlife hacker to mind her own business, but this time, she said nothing.

Just stared at this _girl_ , who was probably only a few years younger than her. 

And walked away.

Later, Amélie heard Gabriel reluctantly tell her of the kill, and that was the first time the sniper had ever seen Sombra look even remotely ashamed.

* * *

By now, Amélie knew the telltale signs the control of Talon on her physiology was weakening.

First, she would throw up. She always had had a weak stomach, something Talon had done their best to suppress. 

She supposed it was a blessing that she didn’t throw up every time she had confirmed a kill.

Then, she would cry for hours on end, sometimes not even feeling it, or knowing why. Her body just exhausting its supply of saltwater, since she couldn’t cry when she was properly under. 

Sometimes she smiled. Even laughed if she was lucky. But it hurt, like a sort of pins-and-needles sensation in her facial features. Like a muscle that hadn’t been stretched in a while. 

Like a person who hadn’t felt in a while.


End file.
